


Mr Darcy!

by RedChucks



Series: Boosh and Prejudice stories [3]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: A short, smutty, follow up piece to my older fic "Boosh and prejudice". Howard Darcy and Vince Bennet leave an assembly early because of... reasons.





	Mr Darcy!

“If you keep looking at me in such a fashion we shan’t make it to a bed.”

Howard blinked and tried to hide the grin that was spreading across his face by bringing his hand to his top lip, smoothing out the already perfectly combed moustache as he attempted, valiantly, to maintain some level of decorum. Vince seemed to have no such qualms as he had been the one to sidle up beside his partner to whisper such a thing in his ear, his voice breathy and deep and too seductive for the polite society they currently found themselves in.

“I am sure I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” Howard replied huskily, his own voice affected by the sensuousness of the other’s. 

“Oh, truly?” Vince asked him, moving from his side to stand before him, the very image of the fashionable town gentleman in his tailored cream trousers, gold waistcoat and green coat. 

He stood just so as to block Howard’s face from the room at large and any who might chance to turn in their direction and Howard was grateful for it, for the man was a tease and had been in the most infuriating (and flirtatious) mood all evening. It had all been causing Howard some discomfort, to see the man he loved so dearly dancing with every young lady at the assembly and showing off his fine form in such a fetching way. Surely a man could not be blamed for having thoughts. And, besides that, Vince was his one and only, was he not? His lifelong companion and bed fellow? He was within his rights to appreciate the man’s beauty and grace as he danced, he was sure. But in any case, he reminded himself, he most certainly had not been staring in a way that would justify Vince’s forward remark, he was sure of it.

“You are doing it again,” Vince whispered to him. “You are gazing upon my person as if you would eat me whole, fine clothes and all. Mr Darcy.”

Howard had been about to respond that he certainly had not, in a light and civil tone, but his name, spoken in such a way, by such lips, disrupted the very function of his brain and he knew that he was indeed (now at least) gazing at Vince in just the way he had been accused of. 

“My most sincere apologies,” he said, raising his voice to a level that might be comfortably overheard. “But I fear I have partaken too freely of the wine. My dear Mr Bennet. Would you be so kind as to give me your assistance on the journey home. I feel you are quite correct. I shan’t make it to my bed without you, in the state I am in now.”

It was Vince’s turn to blush now, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink as he fought to keep his smile from escaping his pursed lips. Several of the young ladies overheard and expressed how miserable it would be for the party to lose Vince when the hour was still relatively early but Vince assured them all that they could go along quite marvellously without him, kissing hands and charming them as he led Howard from the assembly and out to their waiting carriage. 

Once within the privacy of the carriage however, the measured calm vanished and he climbed in to Howard’s waiting lap, straddling his legs and pressing the man’s head back against the seat as he kissed them with such passion that Howard’s head began to spin. 

“You are such a thoroughly, delightfully, wicked man,” he moaned as Howard grasped his thighs and began to move against him. 

“Me?” Howard breathed between kisses, smiling in to the other man’s mouth as their carriage moved so inconspicuously through the London streets. “I am not the one who danced so prettily it was impossible not to imagine him doing so sans clothes.

Vince groaned in to his mouth at such words and kissed him until he was absolute forced, by the need of his burning lungs, to stop for a moment to draw breath.

“Oh my dear Mr Darcy,” he purred. “We are definitely not going to make it to a bed.”


End file.
